Harry Potter and the Legend of the Futhark
by weykin
Summary: Harry Potter is about to start his 6th year at Hogwarts. But after a summer of dealing with death and the Dursely's, Harry doesn't know how much more he can take. This will prove to be his most trying yet as he discovers the power the Dark Lord knows not.
1. Prologue

Rating: R. Not yet, but further into the story it will be needed  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction story and I would love to know what you think. So feel free to review at the end!

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**Prologue**

_I'm frightened by what I see  
__But somehow I know that there's much more to come  
__Immobilised by my fear  
__And soon to be blinded by tears  
__I can stop the pain  
__If I will it all away.  
_Evanescence – 'Whisper'

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"I would feel better if it was you." 

"I know you would James, I know, and I would to. But I'm the obvious choice."

"But you would never betray us. I know you wouldn't."

"I know. But we have no idea how persistent they can be. I would gladly die before telling them where you were, but I don't know what will happen."

"None of us do." He lay a consoling hand on his best friends shoulder.

"They will never suspect him James. Never." He paused letting his words sink in. "If I am taken then you will have time to make other plans before they come for the rest of us. Please believe me, it is better this way. I'm sure it is." The raven-haired man looked deep into the eyes of his best friend. He saw only good intentions buried within his soul. He sighed inwardly. Everything had been so hard, not knowing who was telling Voldemort Order secrets, hoping but failing to believe that it wasn't someone close to them. Something about this still didn't feel right, but he understood the logic.

Sirius felt James sigh and slowly let out the breath that he had been holding. He knew that he had won this argument, one of the few he had won against his friend. This was better, he thought to himself. I don't know how long I could hold out to them, them and their methods. "James…" James shook his head and gave Sirius a reassuring smile, before both men turned at the sound of a baby crying a few rooms away.

"Go, check on your boy James. Make sure he hasn't gotten himself into any trouble."

"Not like his old-man hey?" James asked chuckling.

As James left the room Sirius turned and leaned heavily on the mantle over the fireplace. He knew he was doing the right thing, and yet something was nagging at the back of his head. For months now it had become obvious that someone close to them was feeding information to Voldemort. Accusations had flown, with a majority of the members of the Order accusing Moony. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't, wouldn't believe it. After everything they had been through at school. But the evidence was over whelming. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

Lily.

He could smell the scent of fresh flowers a mile away. As he turned to face her he silently cursed James for getting the best girl at the school. Her shoulder length red hair hung loosely around her pale face. She looked like she hadn't slept in a long time, her usually vibrant emerald green eyes seemed paler, dull, as if her mental tiredness was reflected through them. But then Sirius thought, none of us have slept, not truly felt at peace for a long time. He couldn't even begin to imagine the pressure, the fear that both she and James had been feeling since Harry had been born.

After the initial joy and elation at such good news in such a dark time, the reality and truth of the situation had set in. Sirius had often found James alone in the study lost in his thoughts. But he had only confided in Sirius once.

"_I am so happy Sirius. So happy and yet so sad." Sirius rounded on James._

"_Sad? Why are you sad James? You have a beautiful, caring, not to mention talented witch as a wife. Friends around you who will constantly support you and be there for you. And you're about to have a child James. You're bringing life into this world. I don't understand."_

"_What type of life will my child have if we can't stop Voldemort Sirius?" Sirius looked in his friends' eyes and saw into his heart. He saw all of the despair, the desperation and hunger for happiness and peace. _

_James crumpled in front of him. His head fell onto Sirius' shoulder. He could feel James heaving. Trying to keep in the anguish that he was feeling._

"_James, let it all out. It is better out than in I say."_

_Sirius didn't know how long they had stayed like that. But he eventually heard James trying to say something. He grabbed his friends' shoulders and pushed him up so they sat facing each other. "What can I do to ease your pain my friend?"_

"_Sirius. Please, please promise me you'll take of him? Keep him safe" Sirius sucked a breath in. How could he promise such a thing? How could he not?_

"_James. Look at me." Slowly his eyes came up and met Sirius'. The pain had been replaced by a deep pleading look._

"_You are going to look after your boy James. You. You are going to be an amazing father. You're going to teach him how to play Quidditch. You're going to be there when he performs his first spell, stuffs up his first potion and you're going to watch like a proud parent would when he wins the house cup for Gryffindor, and you know it. In your heart you know it."_

"_No. In my heart I see death. I see destruction. I don't see a future with him. I see him in the future, and I would gladly give me life to give him that future Sirius, but I don't see myself in it. I want to know that he will have someone in his corner when I'm gone."_

"_He won't just have me in his corner. He'll have everyone there." That was enough for James. He slumped back into the wingback chair and fell into a restless slumber. Sirius had stayed with him until the first rays of sun hit the room. Only after he left the room did he open his left hand and saw the pendant that James had forced into his hand. He didn't know what it was but he knew what James wanted._

"Lily."

"Sirius. What's wrong?" He smiled as he looked in her emerald coloured eyes. He never had been able to pull the wool over her eyes. None of them had.

"Just thinking what the future holds."

"James told me you want Peter to be the Secret Keeper." Sirius waited with baited breath. He didn't know how Lily was going to take this news. He was afraid she would think that he was abandoning them, betraying them.

"I think you've got a smart head attached to that body. Sometimes." A mischievous grin had formed on her face. Sirius returned with a shocked and hurt look of his own.

"And that puppy dog face isn't going to work on me mister. I can see right through you." They laughed together. And for a second, just one second it felt as if the weight that they had been burdened with so long ago had lifted.

They both turned at the sound of a young childish giggle and saw James entering the living room with a young boy with raven coloured hair, as messy as his fathers, and emerald green eyes, as intense as his mothers. James came up and put his arm around Lily. Sirius felt a lump form at the back of his throat. He quickly conquered a small camera and snapped the happy family. James and Lily were both waving at the camera with Harry in between the two of them. They both looked adoringly at their son, and then at each other.


	2. Chapter 1 Solitude

Rating: R. Not yet, but further into the story it will be needed  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter 1 ****Solitude**A skinny raven-haired boy stared longingly at the childhood image of himself, snuggled lovingly between his parents. He slowly traced their outline in the photo album. They looked so happy, so content he thought to himself. Then he looked at the child. He definitely had the same messy, unruly hair that his father did, and the same intense emerald eyes of his mother. The only difference between the eleven-month-old child in the picture and the fifteen-year-old boy sitting locked in his bedroom was the light-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, and the weight of his heart. 

Harry Potter was not an ordinary boy, as the album that lay open on his lap was testament to. The pictures of his parents were waving at him. His mother was blowing kisses to him through the camera. His father was laughing as Harry tried to get the camera off whoever was taking the photos. The photo album was the only true memory that he had of his parents.

It had only been two weeks since the end of term. Unfortunately for Harry his school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, didn't allow students to spend their summer break there. Although Harry knew that even if they did, he would be forced back into the clutches of his unforgiving relatives regardless. So far the summer hadn't been the disaster he had imagined. The Dursley's hadn't been any better than previous years, but it no worse. Dudley was still on his diet, which made cooking for them a lot easier. He was locked in his room at all times, unless there were chores that had to be done. And while his Aunt Petunia seemed to be looking out for him and trying to get him to eat, he just wasn't hungry. When he did eat, he felt nauseas and ended up throwing up anything that he had managed to eat after one of his nightmares anyway. Little did Petunia know that Harry had an army of people cooking for him and sending him food. It was all stored away, untouched, under the floorboard in his room. Along with his wand.

His uncle, Vernon Dursley, hadn't dared touch Harry after the threats that he had received at Kings Cross Station by members of the Order. Harry couldn't even remember what they had said. He couldn't remember getting into to Vernon's new company car. He couldn't remember the trip back to Number 4 Privet Drive. His Uncle had made some off remark about the nerve of 'his lot' threatening him, but hadn't said anymore than that. Harry had gone straight to his room, once Dudley's second bedroom, and locked the door behind him. This didn't seem to worry the Dursley's in the slightest. The majority of the time they preferred to pretend that he didn't exist at all, which suited Harry just fine. He was happy going about his chores and ignoring them as much as they ignored him. Admittedly his Aunt had started getting worried about him, after the first week she had forced him outside in the fresh air, as she so aptly put it, to do the weeding of the garden. Harry didn't know whether it was to get him out of her house for a while or if she was actually worried about him.

During the last week he had memorised the Order's watches. He could tell who was on, what time, and what route they took. He could feel Mrs Figg watching him out of her window. None of them ever attempted to make contact with him. And he never saw Professor Lupin. He knew that their orders were to stay away. Don't attract unwanted attention to yourselves; Harry will be fine if he just stays with his relatives. But Harry didn't crave attention, or even company, not like last holidays when it seemed no one would talk to him. He craved only peace and safety. Peace and safety that normal people got at night when they went to their beds and dreamt happy thoughts. Harry on the other hand only felt fear and isolation in his bed at night.

The nightmares.

Harry was used to nightmares by now. Since his first year at Hogwarts he had experienced all of the different types of nightmares. Some normal and some not so normal. The normal ones Harry could deal with. He could handle not catching the snitch in his dreams, or seeing all of the things that Dudley had been given that he had not. They were rare though. It was the ones sent by Voldemort that Harry feared the most.

He felt a surge of anger sweep through him. He felt hatred like he had never experienced before. He hated Voldemort. He had taken away the two people who cared about Harry the most. His parents. He could still hear his mother pleading for his life before Voldemort had killed her. He no longer needed the Dementors present to be able to relive that memory. He hated the Dursley's, his only living relatives. He hated the fact that he had to come back every year and spend summer vacation with them, simply to renew some pathetic blood tie that Harry was positive didn't matter now anyway. Not after Voldemort had risen two years previous.

He was jealous of his best friends. He hated to admit it, but he was. They were both able to go home to loving families and be happy. Act like a family. He didn't know much about Hermione's family, but she was always so animated when she spoke about her parents. He knew that they loved her more than anything in the world. Harry knew he was always welcomed at Ron's home, the Burrow, and he knew that Mrs Weasley treated him like her seventh son. But it still wasn't his family. He didn't have parents of his own, people who could hold him in their arms, and not question when he ranted and raved. Parents he could celebrate Christmas with and celebrate winning the Quidditch cup.

Inevitably his thoughts led him to Sirius. The closest thing to a real parent Harry had ever known. He slammed the photo album lying open on his bedside table, shut as he saw the picture of his parents wedding day, Sirius as his father's best man. Harry's godfather. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the tears that were threatening to escape. They had been since the night at the Department of Mysteries. He felt a new wave of emotions overcome him. He felt pain, frustration, desperation but most of all guilt. It was weighing him down so heavily that he couldn't imagine looking the people he loved in the face again.

Especially not Professor Lupin.

Harry couldn't remember all of that ill-fated night. He knew that he had been there. But the parts he could remember didn't cover the whole night. He clearly remembered sitting in the History of Magic exam and falling asleep and being confronted with the vision of Sirius, being held and tortured by Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries.

He remembered waking up with pain searing through his scar. He remembered arguing with Hermione about what they should do, and talking to Kreacher, the Black family house elf. He remembered flying on the Threstals that the school used for drawing carriages from Hogsmede station. But once they got to the Department of Mysteries it became a blur.

Not that Harry wanted to remember too much about it. But the one memory that he couldn't get out of his head was watching Sirius duelling with Bellatrix Lestrange. He hadn't been able to block the curse she threw at him and Harry could clearly see the shock in his face as he fell back through the veil. He could remember someone grabbing him by the waist as he fought to go to Sirius.

A small sob escaped as he thought of Remus Lupin. The last of the true Marauders left. He has no one thought Harry, no one, because of you. _Because of your stupid pride and arrogance._

Harry's gaze drifted over the stack of unopened letters that were on his desk, to his bedside table. The moonlight was glinting off it. It looked almost beautiful thought Harry. It wasn't real silver, his Aunt kept all of his best knives locked away in case they were robbed. But it looked like silver in the moonlight. The curve of the blade was accented by the pattern on the tang. It looked like a Celtic pattern, starting from the base of the knife, curling its way up until it met with the blade. He could hear it calling to him. He didn't even remember how it had gotten there, where he had gotten it. He vaguely remembered cooking the Dursley's dinner and seeing it on the bench then, but he couldn't remember how it had gotten into his pocket, or onto the table. He reached out for, stopping his hand on inches away from it.

Time froze.

Harry's hand frozen over the blade as he watched the scene from the Department of Mysteries play out in front of his eyes. The Death Eaters, Ron, Hermione, Sirius. It was Professor Lupin, Sirius' best friend, who had grabbed him around the waist, pulling him away from the veil, away from Sirius. He saw himself standing in front of Lestrange trying an unforgivable on her, he saw Dumbledore battling Voldemort.

And then very quickly he saw Ron and Hermione at the Halloween feast in second year. He saw a golden snitch in front of him, he remembered Ron running into Snape's office in third year trying to get Harry off the hook for going to Hogsmede without permission. Ginny's face when she woke up in the Chamber of Secrets. He saw Hermione rolling her eyes at him and Ron for not taking their OWLS seriously. Then, quite suddenly he felt a tug at his heart and saw himself in the future. He was running after a small boy, tackling him to the ground. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists together, the blade forgotten. He pressed his head on the cool glass of his window and opened his eyes and let the tears fall like rain down the window.

He didn't have it in him. He was weak. Just like Voldemort had said, just like his Uncle Vernon constantly reminded him of, and soon, he knew everyone would see him for what he really is. A weak child.

What Harry didn't see was a solitary figure on the street looking up at the flicker of candle light in a second floor window of Number 4, Privet Drive with tears in his eyes.


End file.
